


whatever you want me to be

by nsofties



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Ambiguous Relationships, Enemies to Lovers, Friends With Benefits, Hate to Love, Implied Anxiety, M/M, Mentioned Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, Mentioned Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Mentioned Lalisa Manoban | Lisa - Freeform, Mentioned Park Chaeyoung | Rosé, Mentioned Qian Kun, Mentioned Seo Youngho | Johnny, Modeling, Porn with Feelings, Smoking, jaehyun has anxiety and it's implied?, no mention of anxiety attacks or anything like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 21:18:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19364278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nsofties/pseuds/nsofties
Summary: Sicheng smiles and shrugs as he leans closer. “Whatever you want me to be.”





	whatever you want me to be

**Author's Note:**

> this is purely inspired by [this stupid tweet](https://twitter.com/nsofties/status/1126464115793367040) i wrote in passing. some of this can be found in [this thread](https://twitter.com/nsofties/status/1126475172159074306) i wrote based on that tweet.  
> i kind of got out of control so… sorry about that.  
> not edited.

Jaehyun isn’t really sure what he’s expecting from Sicheng at the party - not that he’s curious or anything. In fact, he’d rather Sicheng not go to the party at all. They’re not friends - if anything, Jaehyun’s sure that they’ve come to some morbid agreement that if they saw the other get stabbed in an alley, they’d leave the other to die.

It isn’t _really_ that deep, but sometimes they make eye contact and Jaehyun feels a shiver run down his spine. Everyone but Jaehyun is fooled by Sicheng’s toothy smile and loud laugh and graceful movements. He isn’t sure what he was expecting, but it definitely isn’t the man who leans against the balcony when he steps out to have a smoke.

He isn’t sure if he chokes on the cold night air or his cigarette as he meets Sicheng’s gaze. He isn’t sure of a lot anymore, to be honest. Truthfully, Jaehyun hopes someone pops out of the shadows and stabs him right here and now because he is _not_ going to address how hot Sicheng is. Not here, not now, not _ever_.

Not until Sicheng is stalking towards him, corralling him until _his_ back is against the railing now and Sicheng has him caged in with his arms. His cigarette has fallen from his hand onto the concrete floor and he watches as Sicheng grinds it into the ground before smirking up at him. There are a plethora of thoughts running through Jaehyun’s head - that these cigarettes are _expensive_ , that Sicheng smells like the same cologne he wore to the first photo shoot they did together, that he’s _trapped_.

Jaehyun hates losing the upper hand. Absolutely hates it. He doesn’t know what to do, cornered like this, metal railing digging into his back. It’s cold and the air is deceptively still, almost as if the world is watching - waiting to see what Jaehyun will do. (It always is.) He wants to stand his ground - pull whatever footing Sicheng stands on out from underneath him. Light another cigarette or two and just go home.

But first - but first, Jaehyun needs to escape Sicheng.

“What the fuck are _you_ supposed to be dressed up as?” he bites out.

Sicheng smiles and shrugs as he leans closer. “Whatever you want me to be.”

Jaehyun isn’t sure he wants Sicheng to be anything other than gone. Out of sight, out of mind, out of breath - but, no, that’s him. Feeling the air sucked out of his lungs as Sicheng’s breathy laugh warms his neck. Jaehyun wants to stomp on his foot, grab him by the lapels of his jacket - maybe toss him over the railing, maybe kiss him until they can’t breathe. Jaehyun wants a lot of things.

“Any requests?”

And Jaehyun wanted a lot of things until he was _asked_ what exactly he wants. Instead, his brain stutters to a stop and tries to come up with _anything_ . All he can focus on, however, is Sicheng’s painfully bare chest that stares him in the face as he stands there. Jaehyun wonders how he’s still so warm standing out in the October evening with just an open jacket on. Jaehyun’s reusing his old Jack costume from years back and he’s fucking frozen. Or, was, rather. _Was_ frozen. Was frozen until Sicheng caged him in, body radiating enough heat to keep the both of them warm and shielded from the night.

“No. None.”

Sicheng tauntingly pouts as he pulls back to look at Jaehyun. “None at all? That’s a bit disappointing. I skipped Ten’s Halloween party for you.”

“I didn’t fucking ask you to.” Jaehyun’s eyes narrow as he peers up at Sicheng’s face, bemused, waiting for an answer. “Like I said. No.”

“Shame. Because I have a request for you.”

“And why exactly do you think I’d do something for you?”

“Because we’ll both benefit from it, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun pauses, weighing the pros and cons of the situation at hand. It’s like his brain throws its proverbial hands in the air. He’s fucking _tired_ \- he’s tired of a lot of fucking things and if this _demon_ of a human could provide some sort of reprieve from the absolute hellscape of his life, Jaehyun can’t complain, can’t reject the offer.

“Sure. I’m listening.”

“I knew you had a brain up in that pretty head of yours.”

“And your case weakens.”

Sicheng tuts, leaning close again, noses touching. Jaehyun thinks that it must look somewhat romantic from an outside view, the flush crawling up Jaehyun’s neck and the unnervingly sincere smile spreading across Sicheng’s face as he looks Jaehyun in the eye. Emphasis on _somewhat_ , because it’s hard to miss the tension - the strain in Jaehyun’s jaw and Sicheng’s tight grip on the railing.

“Like I said. We’ll both benefit from it.” Sicheng’s voice is low and breath warm against Jaehyun’s skin as he whispers. “We’ve got our issues, don’t we? Plenty of ‘em. With the world, with people, with each other. It’s not new. Not to me, not to you.”

Jaehyun hums noncommittally.

“If I’m being honest though, the only way you’re an issue is that we’re not fucking.”

Jaehyun wants to combust right then and there. Wants to burst into flames and disintegrate into ashes, spread across the world. Jaehyun wants this all because he agrees. He’s not stupid and he’s not blind - he knows.

“And what am I supposed to do about that?”

 

\--

 

The walls of Sicheng’s studio apartment are exposed brick that Jaehyun feels through the thin fabric of his shirt as his back hits the wall. Adrenaline is coursing through his veins and he’s sure that he’s facing a fight-or-flight response as Sicheng’s arms cage him in.

Any protests in the back of his mind are silenced as he’s grabbed by the chin. Sicheng’s smile is contagious - Jaehyun feels an amused smile spreading across his lips before he can stop it. He wants to laugh - maniacally, until he can’t breathe. There’s no chance to, though, as Sicheng’s lips capture his. It’s rough - for a second, Jaehyun’s sure that he’s chipped a tooth, the ache whisked away by the feeling of Sicheng tugging his shirt out from the waistband of his pants.

No alcohol - that’s the part that Jaehyun can’t believe, head hitting the brick. The pain drifts to the back of his mind as Sicheng’s lips lock onto his neck. They’re one of Jaehyun’s favorite things, though if he thinks hard enough about it, which he won’t, all of Sicheng is his favorite. But he would be a filthy fucking liar if he said he hasn’t imagined Sicheng’s lips around his cock.

When they first met, the first thing that crossed Jaehyun’s mind was fucking Sicheng. Or Sicheng fucking him. Jaehyun didn’t really care _who_ was doing the fucking and who was being fucked. All Jaehyun cared about was having sex with the most handsome man he’d ever had the distinct pleasure of doing a photoshoot with, bad blood besides the point. His suspenders are pulled from his shoulders and he’s sure he hears the ripping of threads, confirmed by the sight of one floating to the ground beside them.

“Did you just _break_ my fucking costume?” bites out Jaehyun.

“Oh, shut the fuck up. Acting like you don’t have the money to fix this shit.”

Jaehyun wants to continue arguing, but he’s silenced by Sicheng’s hand, tugging at the waistband of his briefs. They make eye contact as the air is thick - a proverbial loaded gun raised into the air as they stare at one another in silence without saying anything. The only sounds come from their breathing and the heater in the corner of the room. Even the sounds from the city below are washed out in the tension.

“Do you want this?” asks Sicheng, expression serious.

“Are you kidding?”

“I’m not fucking you if you don’t say yes.”

“Who says you’re fucking _me_?” snorts Jaehyun.

“You can fuck me if you want, but you sort of look like you could use the bruises on your hips, my cock in your ass.”

“I _look_ like it?”

“Just a feeling.”

“You’re fucking lucky you guessed right, then.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Do you want this?”

Sicheng’s gaze is serious and his body is relaxed as he waits for a reply - as if he would wait days for Jaehyun’s consent. It’s ironic to Jaehyun, really. 

“Yes.”

He smiles as he trails his lips from Jaehyun’s cheeks and down his neck. His touch is featherlight and Sicheng tries not to laugh as Jaehyun whines. “You wanna go to my room, pretty boy?”

“Sure. Yes. Of course.” Jaehyun tugs at the leather jacket, whining as Sicheng refuses to take it off, choosing to drag him to his bedroom instead. “Can you ditch the jacket?”

“No.”

“Why is that?”

“Comfortable in it, I guess.”

Sicheng takes his hand, leading him to his bedroom - it’s empty for the most part and Jaehyun takes a seat on the large bed that occupies most of the floor. It’s quiet between them - comfortable in a way. Jaehyun stares at him from his seat on the bed, watching as Sicheng takes off his jeans. The leather jacket stays on - Sicheng has always been a man of his word, Jaehyun reasons. It’s not a surprise.

He scoots back further onto the bed, crossing his legs as Sicheng musses up his own hair before rummaging through his drawers.

“Take off your underwear.”

“Why can’t you do that for me?”

“Because I’m not your mom,” retorts Sicheng, throwing Jaehyun a peeved look over his shoulder. It makes Jaehyun laugh, shaking his head as he does as he was told. “Thanks.”

He can’t help the smile that crosses his lips as he lounges on Sicheng’s bed. It’s relaxed - the atmosphere is calmer, more settled than before. It’s deceptively nice for a moment, like they’ve done this a thousand times. Sicheng tosses the bottle of lube and condoms onto the bed as Jaehyun dodges them with a frown.

“Gee. When did this turn into target practice?”

“When you agreed to this arrangement.”

“I can leave.”

“Go for it. No one’s keeping you here.”

“ _Except_ for the promise of a good fuck.”

“That’s about all I can promise you, pretty boy. Now turn around for me. You can grab a pillow if you want.”

Sicheng waves dismissively in his direction as he walks towards the bed, pausing for a moment to shut his drawers. Something about it is borderline adorable to Jaehyun, though he doesn’t let his mind dwell on it for too long as he rolls onto his stomach, pillow plush beneath his hips.

“It’s pineapple flavored,” offers Sicheng off-handedly as he opens the bottle.

“Wow. Thanks for telling me.”

“Scented, too.”

“Even better.”

Sicheng laughs, throwing his head back as he warms the lube between his hands. “You ready, pretty boy?” Jaehyun hums, pressing his cheeks to the comforter underneath him. It’s Downy, he recognizes. The same detergent he uses. “I need a yes or a no. And I need you to tell me if you want to stop.”

“Yes,” whines Jaehyun, closing his eyes. 

“Okay, pretty boy. Just relax for me, why don’t you?”

Jaehyun can _hear_ Sicheng’s smile and ignores the thought in favor of the way that his finger circles his rim. His free hand slides Jaehyun’s legs further apart as he hums appreciatively. 

“That’s it, pretty boy. Don’t hold back.” In response, Jaehyun tries to kick Sicheng, earning him a laugh. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

“No, I - _oh_.”

He bites on the inside of his cheek as Sicheng slowly pushes a finger in. It’s tight - not like Jaehyun really has all the time in the world to go fucking around. Hell, he probably shouldn’t be _here_ \- not with a five in the morning wake up impending in the distance. It doesn’t matter, though, really. Not when Sicheng is calling him a pretty boy and opening him nice and slow.

It’s intimate in a way that it shouldn’t be, Sicheng’s free hand rubbing circles on his hip as he shallowly fucks him with a finger, and then two, and then three, and he can’t control his voice as it comes out in breathy whispers.

“You’re so quiet, pretty boy. Is everything how you like it?” murmurs Sicheng.

Jaehyun _knows_ \- knows that he’s readable, that the irritation is beginning to show as he shimmies his hips to make him go deeper. Sicheng wants him to say it out loud - tell him what he wants. Tell him that he wants Sicheng to fuck him with his fingers until he can’t breathe, press on his prostate until his vision goes black. Choke him with passion - intentions be damned.

“You have to use _words_ , pretty boy. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Just _fuck me_ ,” whines Jaehyun, pulling his knees under him, hips rising from the bed. A high-pitched sound builds in his throat, fills the room as Sicheng removes his fingers. Jaehyun feels empty, burying his face into the bed as he lets his hips drop back onto the pillow, squirming for any kind of friction against his dick. Anything to forget that Sicheng’s just sitting there, watching, letting him _rot_.

“You have to be patient, right? Nice and patient.” Sicheng’s voice is soft, but his grip is harsh as his fingers dig into his thigh. It loosens eventually, the grip turning into a soft massage, soothing the stinging pain. “I wanna make you feel good, pretty boy. So, you have to be patient.”

“ _Please_ ,” he begs. “Please fuck me.”

“Tell me, then.”

“I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my name.”

“I can do that, pretty boy, but I’ll do you one better. I’ll fuck you so good that I’m the only one you’ll ever want.” 

Jaehyun keens, thrashing as Sicheng presses two fingers in again without warning, all the way, tips pressing down on his prostate. A hand presses down on his back - strong enough to stop him from picking himself up, gentle enough that he doesn’t break his back trying to move. Sicheng’s hands are relentless, everywhere at once as Jaehyun starts to unconsciously murmur to himself, fingers holding the comforter in a death grip.

“-y boy. Jaehyun. Jaehyun. Earth to Jaehyun,” says Sicheng. The most he can reply with is a hum, one eye opening to gaze at Sicheng, who gently pushes him onto his back. “Hey there, pretty boy. You still with me?”

“Mm.”

“Scootch up a bit for me, will you?”

When Jaehyun makes no movement, instead choosing to stare up at Sicheng, the latter rolls his eyes, tugging him until his head hits pillows, pushing them flush against the headboard. He bites his bottom lip as Sicheng reaches for a condom, opening it unceremoniously. It brings Jaehyun back to earth - reminds him that he’s just here to get fucked and go home. He doesn’t really care (he kind of does).

The scent of pineapple hits his nose as Sicheng opens the bottle again, warming it on his cock as he stares down at Jaehyun. There’s no room to be bashful, but his body has the gall to betray him, a flush spreading from his ears down his neck as Sicheng watches him unabashedly. It’s just a fuck, but he isn’t sure if it _feels_ like one.

“You want this?”

“ _Please_.”

“I need a yes or no, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun wants to cry - or laugh. Both, actually. The tender way that Sicheng asks for consent one last time is a facet of him that he never expected to see. Not here, not now, not ever. They’re teetering on the edge of it feeling less like a fuck and more like reconciliatory sex and, in retrospect, he realizes that it’s a little bit of both.

“ _Yes_.”

“Okay, pretty boy. Keep your eyes open for me, okay. I have to know that you’re okay.”

He can feel it, the sobs building in his chest as Sicheng slowly pushes the head of his cock against his rim, deeper and deeper until his hips rest against his ass. It’s not painful - at least, not in the physical sense. It’s painful in the way that Sicheng stares at him delicately, brushes hair stuck to his forehead with sweat away, presses their lips together and steals his breath. Sicheng is everything at this moment.

Jaehyun feels vulnerable, the way his body is wrapped around Sicheng’s, fingers grasping for purchase. It’s delicate in the way the atmosphere threatens to shatter, not in the way that Sicheng pushes him into the bed, one hand pulling his leg over Sicheng’s shoulder, fingers digging bruises into his calves that he knows will last for days.

It’s grotesque, the feelings that claw their way to the surface as Sicheng pulls back, lets him gasp for breath as he pulls out. A loud whine is drawn from Jaehyun’s lips as Sicheng breathes heavily, staring down at him. He feels bare - in the sense that he can read him. Can read - could always read Jaehyun’s misplaced animosity for what it always was, this deep-seeded fear of falling for him.

 _No feelings_ , Sicheng had warned him on the drive over. And Jaehyun had scoffed like a fucking _idiot_.

Sicheng reaches out towards him, pulling his other leg, hooked around his hips, up to his shoulders, watching as Jaehyun throws his head back as he pushes back in. Everything feels hot and suffocating but Jaehyun wants more - wants anything that Sicheng will give him. Lets him capture his hands over his head as he fucks him rough - fucks him the way that Jaehyun might not want, but needs.

The first tear comes when Sicheng reaches between them, hand rough with callouses from God knows what - _Jaehyun wants to know what_ \- as he wraps around Jaehyun’s cock, grip not firm enough, pad of this thumb pressing against his slit, rubbing circles inconsistent in size. There’s no rhythm, no sense to anything as Jaehyun feels himself inch closer and closer to orgasm.

He comes in a blur, sob ripped from his chest as Sicheng fucks him through it, lets his legs fall to Sicheng’s waist, body thrashing in any way to free his hands - to let him reach out for Sicheng, whose lips lock onto his, muffling his tears.

“Are you okay, pretty boy?” His vision is blurry with tears as he looks up at Sicheng, nodding, not trusting his voice. “Just a little longer, okay? Can you do that?”

He murmurs out a _yeah_ in the smallest voice, a weak nod accompanying it. Sicheng is tender in the way he smiles at Jaehyun through it all. It feels wrong, but Jaehyun realizes it’d be a lot more fucked up if he wasn’t smiling. So, instead he closes his eyes and lets the world envelop him. He’ll address the pain in his chest later. He ignores the way that Sicheng laces their fingers together as he closes his eyes, pressing his forehead onto the pillow beside Jaehyun’s as his hips stutter, soft grunts filtering through his lips.

The moment feels softer than it should. There’s nothing gentle about Sicheng. Jaehyun knew that - knows that. Knows even better when he wakes up with bruises covering his body. Hopes that his manager won’t abandon him when he shows up to the shoot late like this. And his manager doesn’t - simply mutters something that sounds like, _fucking finally_ , under his breath before ushering him into his room. Jaehyun hisses as he raises his arms above his head. He hopes that Sicheng has it just as bad as him.

And Sicheng does - have it just as bad, that is. Or at least visually. The way he moves is natural - without a wince or pause. Walks into work with a shrug, not sparing Jaehyun a glance as he strolls by. Sicheng begins the process of taking off his shirt before he gets into his dressing room, letting Jaehyun, with grim satisfaction, catch a glimpse of the marks running up and down his back.

Jaehyun tells himself never again.

He’s wrong, though. Like he always is with Sicheng.

 

\--

 

Sunlight seeps through the cracks in the shades and Jaehyun groans, rolling over. Warm arms wrap around his middle securely and he opens one eye to peer at the sleeping face of Sicheng. This feels domestic, and part of Jaehyun craves it. Another part of Jaehyun feels an uneasy churning in his stomach. Regardless of internal conflict, he closes his eyes again and falls back asleep. These are thoughts that can be dealt with in the future.

His phone buzzes on the side table, waking him up all the way. Jaehyun escapes Sicheng’s grasp, sitting on the edge of the bed to read the messages from his manager which he rolls his eyes at. When he peers over at Sicheng, who still sleeps, he wonders how he ended up here. He still isn’t sure how he feels about Sicheng - he’s a good fuck, sure, but he’s also less of an… _enemy_ , Jaehyun supposes, and more of an acquaintance.

He tries not to think about how he’s still here - how he can’t seem to escape whatever feelings for Sicheng he’s locked away months ago. Hands on his hips break his train of thought as Sicheng pulls himself closer, looking up at Jaehyun with wide eyes.

“Morning, pretty boy.”

Jaehyun scoffs at the nickname, shakes his head as he turns, planting a hand on the bed behind his back. “Morning.”

“You seem pretty upset by something.”

“Just some dumb shit,” he replies half-heartedly, placing his phone back on the sidetable.

“Why don’t you fuck me? Would that make you feel better?” Sicheng coos as he sits up in bed, pulling himself until he’s flush with Jaehyun’s back. “Or do you want me to fuck you? I’ll do anything you want, pretty boy. You just have to tell me. I need words, remember? I’m no mind reader.”

“I wanna fuck you,” he says, holding Sicheng’s hand, “before I have to head to a shoot in two hours.”

“Whatever you want, pretty boy. I’ll give it to you. You know where everything is. How do you want me? On my -”

“Knees. On your knees.”

“A quick fuck, huh. Is that all I am to you?”

“Sure. Isn’t that all _I_ am to _you_?” retorts Jaehyun, pulling open the drawer. He stares disdainfully at the pineapple lube as Sicheng pulls back to face away from Jaehyun. 

“Well, sure, but I wouldn’t want _anyone_ to be a quick fuck. Just you,” sings Sicheng with a teasing laugh. In response, Jaehyun pushes Sicheng onto his hands.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“That’s _my_ question, you know.”

“And _right now_ it’s mine.”

“Yes, I’m fine with this. Would’ve kicked your ass out if I wasn’t.”

Jaehyun laughs, hopes the bitterness doesn’t seep through as he warms the lube on his fingers. It’s quick - he tells Sicheng he’s just a quick fuck but they both know he’s lying. He doesn’t fuck around - figuratively, and, Jaehyun suposes, literally - as he pushes his finger against Sicheng’s rim, enjoying the way his arms shake as he gets used to the intrusion.

“It’s gonna be quick. Kick me if it hurts or something,” murmurs Jaehyun, anchoring Sicheng with a hand on his back.

“I’ll kick you so hard you won’t be able to have kids,” bites out Sicheng. He’s in the middle of formulating another sentence - Jaehyun can see the mental gears turning in his head. He stops them before they can come together, sliding in another finger.

Jaehyun is fine like this really, fucking Sicheng with his fingers until he can’t talk - just useless strings of words, a mix of several different languages. He’s fine getting himself off in the shower, or car, after. And Sicheng doesn’t know that’s what Jaehyun is planning - doesn’t know until his cheek is pressed to the sheets and Jaehyun is grinning, free hand massaging his ass.

“Does it feel good, baby?”

“ _Please_ . _Please,_ I want your cock, pretty boy. Give it to me.”

“I think I’m fine here,” Jaehyun murmurs, pressing on Sicheng’s prostate to make a point.

“ _Jaehyun_.”

“Begging gets you nowhere, baby. Just let me make you feel good, okay? Be patient.”

Ignoring his own growing arousal, Jaehyun slides his hand from Sicheng’s back to his cock, holding it gently. He’s never rough with Sicheng - doesn’t know how to be, really. Loves when Sicheng blows his fucking back out, but can’t find it in him to return the favor. Doesn’t know how to, really. And Sicheng hasn’t said anything about it, really, so Jaehyun pretends that it’s normal (it’s not).

He’s quiet, other than the occasional appreciative hum as he jerks Sicheng off and fucks him, alternating between two and three fingers. It’s slow - nothing like the quick fuck he alluded to at first, but Jaehyun has never been all that confident with his decisions, flitting back and forth.

And, if he’s honest, he loves watching Sicheng come undone. Listen to the noises he makes, babbling Jaehyun’s name until he has no more air in his lungs and it hurts to breathe. The way his fingers clench and release their grip of the sheets. Watching his legs slide out from underneath him as he comes, body limp and chest heaving as he offers a stupid grin to Jaehyun who returns it while wiping his hands on the sheets.

“Come here, pretty boy,” whispers Sicheng, patting the space next to his head. “Let me return the favor.”

Jaehyun does as he’s requested, spreading his legs so Sicheng can situate himself between them, grabbing his cock like it’s the first time he’s seen it, and not the fiftieth. Maybe more, Jaehyun thinks. Maybe it’s been more than that, but it’s not really the moment to dwell on it - not when Sicheng is running his tongue from base to tip and thinking is becoming harder by the second.

Head from Sicheng is always sloppy, in a practiced sort of way; ravenous in the sort of manner that can only be described as _very Sicheng_ . And it’s quick, in the way that Jaehyun _isn’t_ \- it isn’t long until the head of Jaehyun’s cock is hitting the back of his throat and it’s not like Jaehyun has much self-control, really, coming in Sicheng’s mouth and watching as he rolls onto his back, swallowing.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”

“I like it.” 

“To each their own,” mutters Jaehyun, leaving the bed to rummage around for his jacket. It takes him a while until he finds his pack of cigarettes and lighter, settling on the bench near the window. The sun is still in the process of rising, but he’s wide awake at this point, mind racing despite the calm that settles in the room.

“You’re fucking _weird_ but you keep coming back.”

“Sure.”

“You don’t have to come back, you know.”

“I know.”

Sicheng had _told him_ that they would both benefit from it and, for a second, Jaehyun thought that perhaps it would be one-sided. It isn’t, though, and Jaehyun decides that, yes, he definitely does benefit from it, as he leans against Sicheng’s windowsill, cracking the window before lighting a cigarette. The smell rouses Sicheng, who sits up, hair tousled and sticking everywhere as he glares at Jaehyun.

“No.”

“Just one.”

“If you get ashes on my fucking floor again, I’m going to strangle you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Jaehyun isn’t sure when this turned into that, and that turned into now. When sneaking out from each other’s apartments turned into staying for a smoke and breakfast. He doesn’t get it, really. Doesn’t understand how or when the edges started softening and he started seeing Sicheng as, well, Sicheng. Or when Sicheng started seeing him as Jaehyun.

And there are caveats. There will always be caveats - footnotes to their lives. Nothing is easy, Jaehyun learns. Nothing is easy when you work a job where the camera is always pointed right at you. Jaehyun will pretend it is, though. Just for now. Just for today.

 

\--

 

It’s a nervous habit - pulling the cigarette out of his jacket pocket as he leaves the studio for a break. He doesn’t expect to see Sicheng standing in the doorway, arms crossed when he’s done, grinding the remainder under his heel. Sicheng hates that he smokes. Hates it more than needing to replace flooring when Jaehyun flicks ashes onto the ground in his apartment. He starts buying Jaehyun ice pops, taking his cigarette before he can light it. Even in the winter. It’s a bit annoying, honestly, though it’s more annoying when Sicheng won’t speak to him for days after he smokes.

“It’s bad for you,” says Sicheng with a frown.

“It’s not that easy.”

“I know.”

Sicheng is, beneath his façade, patient and understanding - kind and slow moving. Understanding of struggles and content with moving at a different pace for Jaehyun’s sake. And they, together, move at a different pace - a weird place, no label. Just coexisting in a similar plane. Jaehyun isn’t sure they’re ready to figure out what’s going on yet, but he thinks that it’s okay if they’re not.

Sicheng burns the frozen pizza in the oven again and his apartment smells like it for weeks, even when they open the windows and laugh so hard that Jaehyun’s downstairs neighbor tells them to shut up.

Moments like these aren’t rare anymore, but still uncommon - moments when the light from the sun hits Sicheng in a way that takes Jaehyun’s breath away. Moments when they forget about the world outside and the impending future and instead focus on the here and now. Jaehyun lives for these moments. Loves these moments.

Life is more fun, he decides, when he’s enjoying Sicheng’s company.

He wonders when they started hating each other. He loves that they finally stopped. He hopes they never go back. He hopes, and deep down, he knows that they won’t go back. That there’s only forward from late nights in bed, watching Marvel movies that Jaehyun never gave the time of day, until Sicheng forced him to watch all three Iron Man movies in one sitting. Jaehyun sleeps better with Sicheng by his side.

But it’s hard to sleep sometimes. Jaehyun will lay in bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars Sicheng bought him from a museum a few months into… _this_. He worries sometimes - all the time, really - about Sicheng. Whether or not he’ll come home. They don’t talk about where they were before their first meeting - their pasts are referenced in short sentences here and there in conversations that pass too quickly to bring them back up.

One of the things, though, that Jaehyun does bring up, is Sicheng street racing. Jaehyun wishes that Sicheng would stop street racing. Hates watching him climb in through the window at four in the morning, locking it behind him before flopping into bed, smelling like gasoline and cheap beer. Sicheng doesn’t drink, but the smell always travels with him from the races anyway. He knows that smoking kills you slowly, but racing can kill you fast. They fight a lot over it - more than Jaehyun smoking.

When they fight, Jaehyun doesn’t see Sicheng for days - even weeks, sometimes, if it’s that bad. Moments full of mangled silence - silence made up of every ugly emotion a human can feel. Jaehyun hates these moments. Hates them with every fiber of his being - but he knows that they fight over things like this because they care. He just wishes they didn’t end like this - in terse silence; aggravation and annoyance and concern building until it spills over again.

It’s silent when Sicheng squeezes through the open window at three in the morning. He smells like his green apple body wash and shampoo as he crawls under the covers to be beside Jaehyun, who says nothing.

They sit like that, in silence for what feels like forever.

“I’m going to stop. I stopped. I’m done,” he says into the darkness. “I’m sorry.”

Jaehyun reaches out and grabs Sicheng’s hand, peering into the darkness to where he knows Sicheng is. In response, he closes his eyes and falls asleep, the sound of Sicheng humming his favorite song lulling him to sleep.

It’s nice. They still have shit to work out, but it’s nice.

There’s still the pain in Jaehyun’s chest whenever they fuck, loud and quick, quiet and drawn-out. It’s not something that he wants to think about, really. Doesn’t want to entertain the feeling he gets when Sicheng smiles _that_ smile when he rolls over, takes his hand, and falls asleep. He wonders if Sicheng feels the same - clenches at his chest alone in the shower at four in the morning. He wonders if this is all in his head. If there’s nothing actually there.

When he looks up, Sicheng takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. He realizes he doesn’t care.

“It’s three in the morning. Go to sleep. You don’t have to leave for your shoot for another two hours,” groans Sicheng, closing his eyes. 

Jaehyun doesn’t know how to tell him that, for once, it’s not his anxiety for the impending shoot that keeps him wide-eyed and awake into the hours of the night where thoughts become regretted actions and the lights seem to shine a little brighter outside the apartment windows.

He doesn’t know how to tell him that he’s awake because he’s cherishing these hours - that it’ll be months until they see each other again, that there will be thousands and thousands of miles between them and there is nothing that Jaehyun can do to stop it.

“Yeah. I will.”

 

\--

 

The concept of coming home is a weird one for Jaehyun - he’s not sure anymore if home is a place or a feeling, though he leans towards the latter as he walks upon a familiar sight. The photographer is familiar - John Suh, a name that he hasn’t heard in a while, other than one time Doyoung Kim mentioned him during the Versace show in Italy - and so is the crew, Joohyun barking out orders as Lisa and Rosé are corraled towards Sicheng.

For the first time in a long time, Jaehyun sees Sicheng from across the room and, oddly enough, it feels like coming home. He wants to feel like this every day - hold this feeling close to his chest. Nurture it.

Sicheng looks towards him and smiles.

In his heart, a flower blooms.

His brain doesn’t think about how it looks hollow - foreign and out of place from what he remembers. Jaehyun had convinced himself that everything would be the same, and for a moment, for the smallest of seconds, it truly seemed like it would be, until he and Lisa are whisked away to the other side of the studio and his life becomes this giant phenomenon of dating rumors with Lisa and playing phone tag with Sicheng, walking up to locked doors and away from occupied apartments.

He was sure - absolutely _positive_ that life felt empty thousands of miles away. Jaehyun didn’t realize that it could feel even emptier here, a five minute drive from the man he’s sure he fell in love with somewhere along the way. 

Jaehyun wonders what changed - where things went wrong. It isn’t like he didn’t say goodbye - like he didn’t whisper that he’d be back against Sicheng’s lips, full promises with conviction behind them. He wonders if he should’ve told him that he fell in love, fast and fierce and dedicated. But Jaehyun doesn’t even know if Sicheng would believe him - if his words would’ve done anything.

His name is Kun. The new man, not that he even knows that he’s new - not from the way he smiles, gentle and inviting, and Jaehyun doesn’t have it in him to hate him. He can’t hate him when this is the natural order of things. That leaving for months, leaving something that wasn’t even _real_ behind just means there will be change.

Lisa pulls him to the side one day, tells him to fix whatever the fuck is going on up in his head - _a gentle tap to his forehead_ \- or his heart - _a hand on his chest_ \- or both. And it’s not like Jaehyun isn’t trying - isn’t trying to fill empty spaces with stupid shit: more cigarettes, more alcohol, more time. More time spent staring into spaces that used to be filled but are now empty.

But Sicheng is still smiling that shit-eating grin that Jaehyun wants aimed at _him_ . Wears it on the cover of a magazine, leather jacket thrown over his shoulder, sleeves of his shirt rolled. It feels stupid, missing someone that wasn’t even _his_ to begin with. Missing someone who meant so much, situated in such a temporary place in his life. 

Jaehyun wonders how this happened. How he fell so hard, so fast. He should know better - should’ve known better. Should’ve torn his heart out of his chest before it started beating for Sicheng. Wonders if he can fix this - if time travel is so impossible that it can only be done in his head at three in the morning after a few shots of tequila and a Corona or two.

He closes the magazine and rolls back over in bed.

He can regret everything later.

Jaehyun can regret everything when the Corona doesn’t taste like water and he’s not ignoring the buzzing of his phone and the knocking at his door and the familiar voice that drifts through his apartment, muddled after traveling through a door and a wall, and bouncing every-which-way until it falls upon drunk ears. Drunk ears that don’t want to hear it, don’t want to see the owner.

Doesn’t flinch as the window to his bedroom is flung open and there’s a flurry of swears, riddled with anger and worry and defeat. Jaehyun ignores the face that walks into his line of sight - closes his eyes and pretends he’s not there. And it’s hard, when he’s taking up the entire bed, limbs sprawled every which way.

He’s fighting heartbreak that he doesn’t deserve - doesn’t own. He doesn’t need _him_ here. Doesn’t need the hands that hold his face gently, the lips that whisper secrets and realities and truths to him. He doesn’t need to tears that roll down his face or his voice that cracks as he asks him to leave.

“I can’t. I’m here,” Sicheng says softly. “I’m here.”

And it’s not quick - it takes a year of gentle coaxing: loud promises and fingers interlaced on Monday mornings when the sun’s just about to rise and time is suspended. Hangovers and therapy and new beginnings. Nothing is ever quick, Jaehyun learns. Nothing is ever quick or ever easy or ever the way he wants it to be.

It never is.

It doesn’t mean it’s bad, though.

It’s not _good_ , per say. It’s not perfect and Jaehyun is hesitant - to give them a label. And Sicheng whispers to him every night that they don’t need one - that it isn’t what it’s about.

“It’s about _you_ , pretty boy,” Sicheng says from the passenger seat. “It’s what you want.”

Jaehyun thinks. Wracks his brain at two in the morning in a car on a beach on a Tuesday night. And he’s not sure what he wants. He knows what he has and for now, to him, it’s enough. The rumors don’t end, but they don’t bother him the way they used to. They don’t bother him anymore when Sicheng presses a kiss to his lips before he leaves for an interview, before he leaves for a shoot, before he leaves for anything.

There’s a place for him to go back to, he realizes.

That’s enough for him in this moment, in this place, in this space.

“I’m okay,” he says, and means it. “It’s okay.”

 

\--

 

Photoshoots are rough. They always have been. They grate on Jaehyun’s patience, on his sense of self-worth, until he’s nothing. Until even his very foundation, the skeleton of his pride, is reduced to ash. Sicheng understands, stands to the side quietly as he comes home, bag fallen to the ground, as he strips himself of his clothes on the walk to the bathroom.

It’s liberating, but not in the way that Jaehyun wants it to be - not to the degree that his soul craves. He feels caged - pinned to a board like a fucking _insect_ , people of a particular type _ooh_ -ing and _aah_ -ing as they examine him. Looking for abnormalities, imperfections, fallacies in the character that he’s carefully crafted over the course of his career.

Jaehyun wants to laugh at them - wants to tell them that his lungs are fucked from all the cigarettes he used to smoke, that he’s fucking _Sicheng_ and not that pretty woman, Lisa, they keep signing him up for photoshoots with. He wants to prove to them that he’s human and that the person that they keep plastered on bedroom walls and on television screens isn’t him - isn’t the whole story.

He rubs away at the painted-on freckles, watching them wash away as he stares into the mirror. Each freckle - each painted on speckle is hiding another secret, another thing the world doesn’t know about him. Jaehyun hates it. Hates how hidden his life has become. He keeps scrubbing until his skin hurts, and a hand is gently pulling the cloth away from his face. Jaehyun stares back at him through the mirror.

“You’re fine,” Sicheng says softly. “It’s fine.”

“I’m fine.”

With Sicheng, it’s _fine_ \- or going to be, eventually. 

And it is. One day Jaehyun leaves everything behind. Tells a reporter to _fuck right off_ before smiling at Sicheng’s dazed expression as he kisses him breathless on the red carpet. It’s not the perfect story - not the way he wanted to tell the world that everything they thought they knew was an outright _lie_ , but it’s a way, and it happens, and Sicheng and him laugh about it that night when Jaehyun’s company is running in circles trying to respond to the frenzy.

Jaehyun doesn’t have it in him to feel bad about it. Not when Lisa texts him a _fucking finally bitch_ that night after the event and Sicheng is whining for him, touches gentle, coaxing, familiar.

He suffers for it, for a little while. A small dip in deals, a few companies refusing to endorse him for whatever reason. Jaehyun can’t bring himself to care because, for what it’s worth, the _world_ doesn’t really care. But, the world is also excited for this change - wide-eyed and predatory and if Jaehyun was _new_ \- if this society was unfamiliar - he would’ve been afraid of the attention, of the people waiting to watch his relationship with Sicheng fall apart.

“You frown when you think too hard,” murmurs Sicheng. His thumb sweeps against Jaehyun’s forehead, bringing him back to the present. The place where Sicheng and Jaehyun are _together_ and all that has transpired is just that - in the past.

Humming in reply, he closes his eyes, letting Sicheng’s fingers brush through his hair. Jaehyun’s favorite moment with Sicheng is laying in bed. It’s peaceful - different from how they were, how they still are sometimes. He loves it, though. Sicheng combing through his hair and humming the lullaby from his childhood. It’s nicest in the winter - heater on low, cold air seeping in through the weakly insulated walls. Sicheng is warm - Jaehyun’s personal heater. It’s strangely reminiscent of _The Party_ , but in a nice way.

Waking up beside Sicheng comes as a close second, however. The sight of the man who’s managed to worm his way into his heart, fast asleep, in the gentle light of the morning, is something that he’s sure he’ll cherish forever. Those moments when the weight of the world is wiped from his mind, creases smoothed from his forehead.

Jaehyun would do anything for Sicheng’s happiness, he realizes. He would do anything for this man who was, who is, who will continue to be, a puzzle for Jaehyun to solve. 

The more Jaehyun gets to know Sicheng, the more he realizes he never really knew him at all. But, it’s a good thing. He’s glad that every day he learns something new. He learns that Sicheng doesn’t get cold on the coldest nights, but gets chilly from a little breeze. He learns that Sicheng loves bad puns and cold coffee. Lazy mornings in bed and quick photo shoots. Sunny-side-up eggs and thick cut bacon with rye toast. A cup of tea before bed. Falling asleep while watching late night television. Most of all, though, Jaehyun learns that Sicheng loves him.

He doesn’t have to say it out loud - and he does, eventually - but Sicheng loves him carefully. Through soft touches and warm words and big smiles. It took them years of growing and learning and doing and thinking and being, but they’ve made it, Jaehyun thinks.

Somehow, they’ve made it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s been four years, but if Jaehyun closes his eyes, it feels even longer. Sicheng holds his hand under the covers of the duvet and laughs as Jaehyun turns his head towards him, eyes wide. This is home, he realizes contently, pulling him closer. This is home - this is a feeling, a sensation, a way of life. Coming home holds meaning for once.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, pretty boy?” whispers Sicheng into the silence.

There’s not a label for what they are, really, Jaehyun thinks, even though there _is_ \- there’s a label for the rings on their fingers that match, shining bright in the light of the sun. There’s a sheet of paper, government issued, giving a label for what they are. But, it’s not enough for Jaehyun. It doesn’t quite fit them - not in the way he wants it to.

Sicheng is the stars and the moon, and the entire universe, in a way that Jaehyun realizes he couldn’t live without, even though he could if he really tried. He could if he knew that there was nothing left. But there is. Sicheng is always there, grounding and just as lost.

There are endless mysteries, compounded by memories, and Jaehyun is okay with that. He’s okay with learning something new every day, with feeling lost once in a while. He’s okay, because Sicheng is there, at the end of it all. A Sicheng who, at his very core, doesn’t change, no matter how desperately he pretends to protect himself.

“You.”

The laughter that travels through the air is magical in a way that takes Jaehyun’s breath away, prompts him to turn his head and press his lips to Sicheng’s.

Sicheng is like coming home in the best of ways.

“You’re like coming home. You’re like sunny days on the beach and thunderstorms at midnight that lull me to sleep.”

“I’m here as long as you want me to be. I’ll stay here as long as you want me to stay. I’ll say what you want me to say,” whispers Sicheng into the silence that falls over them. “I’m whatever you want me to be.”

Jaehyun hums, looking up at the ceiling.

“I want you to be _you_.”

“For you? Anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> i told myself to keep it under 5k. failed at that. told myself to finish it quickly. failed at that, too.  
> find me here:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/nsofties)  
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/nsofties)


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